Acheter Mon Amour
by d r a m a t i s . e c h o
Summary: Thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love. Teaser.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Kuroshitsuji, or the characters in this story. I simply wrote out the scenario in pure boredom. XD... like all of my other stories lol

**Pairings:** Ciel/Sebastian, one-sided Ciel/Claude, Alois/Claude, Grell/William and others mentioned

**Note I:** This is an AU Kuroshitsuji story, which tosses those characters into a '_Moulin Rouge_' environment. There will be some aspects/scenarios from the film that I'll incorporate into this story, but mostly I'll be playing around with having these characters/dynamics in such a lustful and FUNsexy environment lol … don't like? Don't read.

**Soundtrack Inspiration** (which you can find if you go on _youtube_ and search them… which I highly suggest):

Moulin Rouge Closing (Bolero)  
>Christian and Satine's Theme by Craig Armstrong<p>

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><p><strong>Please Note:<strong> This is a teaser. This scene _won't actually happen_ in the story that I'm working on, but it's a scene I wanted to write nonetheless… since I kind of worked it out while I was AT work lol ... And I wanted to use it. So I'm labeling it as an introductory teaser to _Acheter Mon Amour._

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><p>It was a flurry of color.<p>

It was a beautiful temptation.

It was full of lustful promises and lucid dreams.

And Sebastian Michaelis found himself in the center of it all. Normally, such disgraceful pleasures were reserved for the lower class; the lure of sex, drink and drug did not normally tempt the wealthier citizens of Paris, who preferred dinner parties and social calls over such immoral sin.

But while Sebastian was considered part of that class, and had endured his fair share of fanfare and led an exquisite lifestyle… he was _bored_.

He craved excitement, but had thus far found little to quench his thirst. The dinners and parties he attended were all the same, and full of long family lines and 'old' money. Of course, at the age of twenty-nine, Sebastian knew he should be trying to settle down. Sadly, the dainty, mundane, proper young women of wealth did little to excite him. In his mind, he was a successful, young bachelor who was unwilling to endure his tired lifestyle any longer.

He needed a change… which, as luck would have it, was provided to him through his estate's kitchen porter, *Etienne Bardroy (or Bard, as he preferred to be called).

The Moulin Rouge was well known for its risqué theatrics and 'ladies of the night'. The venue was the subject of gossip for the upper class, and few dared to venture inside. Of course, in the smoking rooms of the esteemed gentlemen Sebastian associated with, he had heard a few tales of their expensive exploits in the infamous establishment. Despite it's usual, low class clientele, those with money were welcomed and treated like kings. Bardroy could barely contain his gruff excitement as he regaled Sebastian with his experiences one evening.

Intrigued, Sebastian had requested that his kitchen porter escort him there the following evening. Bardroy was hesitant at first, but was reassured by his master that he merely desired a change. A glimpse into this world.

Thus, Sebastian found himself passing beneath the Moulin Rouge's signature, giant windmill; gently spinning, and lulling the weak willed to its tempting call of sin.

"Uh, Monsieur, while I appreciate what you've done for me… you didn't need to buy me these clothes." Bardroy cleared his throat, nervously tugging on the end of the tuxedo jacket he was currently wearing.

Sebastian smirked, "Come now. A man such as myself cannot accompany a working vagabond to a place like _this_ without upholding my status. I want you looking your best. This evening is on me, after all, since I am the one who wishes to join you."

"But are you sure you wanna go through with this?" His servant continued as they began to venture further inside. "I mean, we might get separated… it gets pretty rowdy in there. Are you gonna be alright alone?"

The tall, dark-haired Adonis nodded, "An evening of wild, reckless abandon is not going sully my view of you, Bardroy." He reassured somewhat arrogantly. "You are entitled to your fun, and you need not babysit me." Sebastian reminded him. "Come."

Bardroy nodded, and followed his master into deep, red depths of the Moulin Rouge.

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><p>As soon as the pair passed through the doors and were permitted inside, Sebastian almost instantly felt like he was in another world.<p>

Vivid colors rushed and swirled by; there were elaborate dresses, cleavage, and exaggerated costumes as far as the eye could see. It reminded him of a mad hospital ward, a Victorian freak-show, and a burlesque house rolled into one. Most of the interior was plush and decorated in varying tones of red – along with the natural, old worn wood that was structurally in place.

Gazing up, Sebastian noted the various levels and balconies that surrounded the circled, center showroom floor. Two rows of scantily clad women were performing as they arrived. He was surprised to see such open acceptance of sexuality and lust. The women teased the men as they were showered with money, small gifts, liquor and laughter. The atmosphere was so electric and exciting that Sebastian found his heartbeat increasing for a brief moment.

"See her?" Bardroy's voice broke through Sebastian's haze; he was pointing to the center of the room where a red-haired woman was interacting with some of the dancers. She had a strong, confident presence about her, and was dressed almost like a ringmaster…

'_Though her dress and neckline are **nothing** like that of a ringmaster…'_ Sebastian noted bemusedly in his head. "Who is she?" He asked out of mild curiosity.

"That's Madame Red. She owns the place. Rumor has it she used to be a doctor, but gave up after being accused of malpractice. She opened it with Grell Sutcliffe; the second highest paid whore here." Bardroy explained - lighting up a smoke he had previously rolled in anticipation of their arrival. "If you want special treatment, she's the woman to speak to."

Sebastian nodded. "Indeed." He mused. "Perhaps we sh—"

The young aristocrat cut himself off when he saw Bardroy's attention had suddenly been captured elsewhere. Following the servant's line of sight, Sebastian noticed the gruff kitchen porter was staring at one particular dancer. She was not incredibly stunning (in Sebastian's opinion), and in fact, she looked rather plain, nervous, and out of place considering her surroundings.

"Oh?" Sebastian smirked. "And who is _that_?"

Bardroy visibly blushed, "Ah. That's Maylene. She only works the floor sometimes. N-Normally she's just a seamstress here."

"I see." The noirette replied. "Might _**she**_ be the reason you have begun to frequent the Moulin Rouge more regularly?"

The servant grit his teeth together, "That's none of your_ business_, Monsieur." He answered tightly.

Looking back in her direction, the duo couldn't help but notice Maylene awkwardly trying to avoid getting groped by a few drunken patrons that were close by.

"Go on, Bardroy." Sebastian taunted smoothly. "What better chance to appear as the valiant savior?" Just as Bardroy was about to protest, he continued, "I will be fine for a few hours by myself. I'm not a child. You served your purpose and brought me here, but I do not need a chaperone."

Bardroy looked a bit torn, but reluctantly nodded, and swiftly barreled is way through the crowd toward his favored Maylene.

'_Only a fool would fall in love with someone in this place.'_ He thought to himself.

Sebastian had never experienced love first hand, but from an objective, and observant point of view, it seemed to turn even the smartest man into a possessive, co-dependent wreck. And having that kind of relationship with a woman who sells her company to other men was insanity, at best.

Now free to do as he wished, Sebastian smoothly made his way through the crowds. Getting noticed was never a problem for the young man; he had sharp, handsome features, wealth, and a commanding, almost royal presence about him. There was no question that Sebastian Michaelis was from the upper class, and most of the crowd willingly parted aside to let him pass (no matter how distracted, indulged, or intoxicated they were).

As he approached Madame Red, the woman took notice of him instantly. A slow, seductive smirk grew on her lips – and was returned; mirrored by Sebastian himself.

"My, my…" Madame Red began. "I never expected to see someone of the Michaelis household exploring my Moulin Rouge." She smiled, pressing a flirtatious hand to his chest. "Curiosity killed the _aristo_-cat, you know." She teased, more amused by her own pun than Sebastian was.

But he smirked in response, nonetheless. "I imagine you would not be far from aristocracy yourself - with the money you're undoubtedly squeezing from the lustful and dimwitted."

"Truer words were never spoken." Madame Red agreed, letting out a jovial laugh. "Come, Monsieur Michaelis… I will ensure that you experience all you can while you are a guest within these walls." She smiled, gesturing for him to follow. "Only the very best for such a high class gentlemen."

Sebastian willingly followed Madame Red as she led him back off the showroom floor, toward one of the elaborate, private boxes, which gave the best possible view of the stage and showroom. Upon being seated, Sebastian was amused to find the Madame already preparing him a glass of Absinthe.

"I believe that particular liquor is illegal. And a hallucinogen." Sebastian baited.

"In the city of Paris, perhaps," The Madame responded silkily. "But the Moulin Rouge is another world, entirely." She clarified, holding the glass of green alcohol before him. "Indulge yourself, Monsieur Michaelis. What happens within these walls stays here. Loyalty and trust are reciprocated between patron-and-prostitute."

The young man lifted his chin a bit in thought, before accepting the glass – and drinking it back in one, smooth motion. Madame Red smiled, and lit a cigarette, which was perched at the end of a very long, slender holder. "Now, to business." She purred. "How does Monsieur Michaelis wish to be entertained, this evening?"

"By only the very best available." He answered dully. "I wish to be moved. I cannot feel in life, so I must pay others to do it for me."

Madame Red nodded. "You are not the first wealthy man to pass beneath our red windmill in search of such a thing. But I can see you are not like said-men who over indulge themselves with drink and intercourse. You need an equal; you need a challenge."

"…Do you have such a person?" He asked, curious.

A slow, calculating smile graced the ruby lips of the woman before him. Without giving Sebastian a direct answer, the emcee stood and exited his private box. "Linger and enjoy the show, Monsieur Michaelis. The Moulin Rouge has something for everyone… and I have no doubt you'll find what you're looking for."

With those final words, the infamous Madame disappeared back into the dancing, laughing crowds on the showroom floor. But before Sebastian could make a move himself, he felt a slender hand on his shoulder. Glancing beside him, he saw two young women on either side of him – one preparing another glass of Absinthe, the other slipping down to sit beside him.

"Can we be of service to you, sir?" She purred, leaning against him and successfully boosting up her corseted cleavage.

Sebastian smiled, "I doubt it." He answered smugly, taking his second glass of Absinthe from the second whore, who also took a place beside him.

"Michaelis…" A voice was that undoubtedly a man spoke up before either of the dancers could protest Sebastian's cool attitude toward them.

Turning, the young aristocrat found himself face to face with a familiar (and rather loathed) acquaintance. "Faustus."

"I've never seen you here before." The spectacled young man noted, taking a place of his own in the expensive box seat. He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose with a fluid gesture, before accepting and downing a glass of Absinthe one of the girls offered him. "I didn't think you would risk lowering your reputation and family name by venturing within these walls."

Sebastian smirked, swirling the remnants of his own drink lazily while he answered, "You're here. Are you not worried about the same thing?"

"As scandalous and seedy as this place can be, they value their secrecy, and the loyalty of their 'clients'…" Claude responded.

"So I've heard."

Claude flicked his golden eyes toward Sebastian, "So… people with money don't need to worry about our reputations in such a place. Madame Red needs gentlemen like us to fund this gutter of sin."

"You speak with such distaste." Sebastian mused. "I believe in another lifetime, we could have been friends." This comment seemed to irk Claude the wrong way, as he shot Sebastian a quick glare, before turning his attention back toward the center showroom floor where some of the Moulin dancers were finishing up.

As much as he didn't wish to converse with his 'friendly' nemesis, Sebastian's first question was still lingering in his mind. "So? Why are you here? Has some French tartlet captured your heart with a flash-of-her-leg and a bat-of-her-eye?"

"I am here to see the Rouge Robin." Claude spoke stiffly. "I wish… to make him sing…"

Sebastian quirked an intrigued brow, "…_Him_?" He asked, wondering if he had just misheard the man.

Just then, the atmosphere of the Moulin Rouge shifted; the showroom floor fell silent, as thousands of soft, red and pink feathers floated down from the ceiling above. A hush fell over all occupants of the festive hall; patrons and dancers alike stopping their scandal, and watching with anticipation as a large, silver cage descended from the ceiling. Soft lights illuminated the scene, and Sebastian found himself waiting with baited breath for a glimpse of the Rouge Robin within; the one who, apparently, had even captured the eye of Claude Faustus. But what he saw, wasn't what he expected…

There inside was a boy, but not just any boy. He couldn't be more than fifteen by the look of him. He had dark gray hair, which seemed like an usual tone for a child, but it only served to compliment and enhance his flawless white skin and brilliant blue eyes. Or 'eye', rather – curiously, the melancholy Robin had a patch covering one of his large, doe-like eyes. It had a small, bright red windmill over the silhouette of a small bird which was stitched onto the font of it. But otherwise, it was black in color. The young boy's slender arms were bare; his torso covered by a black, spaghetti strapped corset, with a tinted red material covering the would-be bust line. Gold buttons trickled down the front to bunched shorts, which were accompanied by a gathered red bustle at the back to mimic (what he assumed) were tail feathers. The ensemble was topped off with a gold bow around the boy's slender neck, stunning red gloves, a beautiful headpiece, and intricate golden boots.

He looked so regal, so expensive, and so… _desirabl_y _pure_, despite the seedy and lustful surroundings he was in.

Truthfully, Sebastian had never seen anything to beautiful in his entire life. Slowly and quietly, he finally breathed, and took in air for the first time in since he'd laid eyes on the Robin.

"What is… his name?" Sebastian inquired slowly.

Claude seemed just as transfixed as Sebastian, "No one knows. He is referred to as the Rouge Robin… Madame Red's most prized possession, and blood relative. Her nephew." He uttered slowly. "The Rouge Robin is displayed in his cage to tempt all those who visit the Moulin Rouge… and will only be released if his real name is guessed properly."

"Such a challenge is impossible. There are a million names in the world... and counting. It could be _anything_." Sebastian snarled, irritated that something he suddenly desired so much was unattainable.

His fellow aristocrat pursed his lips together, "Precisely. And it is for that very reason that Madame Red put forth a riddle; it alludes to the Rouge Robin's identity. If you correctly guess his name… you are entitled to be the Robin's prime customer."

"Not his _only_ customer?" Sebastian wondered.

Claude smirked. "No need to be greedy. Once the boy's identity is revealed, he will shift into circulation with all the others. Madame Red has been promoting her angelic nephew for the past few years… presenting him in this cage. Now that he is fifteen, there are quite a few patrons and gentlemen looking to possess him."

"Ladies and Gentlemen… _Mesdames et Messieurs_…"

The voice of Madame Red pulled the attention from her fragile nephew, to herself as she strolled toward the lowered cage. Always the show-woman, she smirked when the greedy eyes of her gentlemen callers were fixed on her.

"As promised… the highest bidders will have a chance to answer my riddle… and become the Rouge Robin's 'most entitled' customer." She gushed dramatically with a flourish. "The starting price for _first_ guesses… is ten thousand franks." The lady in red smirked.

Gradually, a few men stepped forward; one had longer blond hair, but was dressed in a stark white suit. He seemed young, and a hopeless romantic, judging by the way he was loudly lamenting over the Rouge Robin's beauty. Another man was older, and was desperately attempting to stop himself from drooling as he looked upon the caged delicacy before him.

Sebastian attention shifted again when Claude stood up, exited the lavish private box they were seated in, and walked toward the cage.

Needless to say, it didn't take the noirette long to follow. Sebastian kept his claret colored eyes on the Rouge Robin. There was a dull, almost haughty expression on the boy's face as he looked past the bars toward his potential (and wealthy) suitors. He almost seemed like he was royalty; he held himself with such class. But when his gorgeous, doe-like blue eye landed on Sebastian, his normally cold heart tensed a bit.

_'He looks so… untouched.'_ The devilishly handsome young man mused in his mind.

"Is he a virgin?" Sebastian muttered to Madame Red when he stopped outside the cage.

She smiled, "He is. But well trained, and versed in the art of seduction… I assure you." Madame looked back toward her nephew. "This Robin is my most prized jewel. He is a delicacy, but just as manipulative and cunning as anyone in this business…"

"I have no doubt." Sebastian purred; keeping his eyes locked with the boy's, until the teen shifted his unimpressed gaze back to the cage floor.

_What he wouldn't give to force that boy to look only at him…_

Madame Red turned her attention from Sebastian, to the other three men who also had the financial means to step up to the challenge. "Now… you each get one guess each. If you solve the riddle, and answer the Rouge Robin's name correctly… you win." She explained.

The three men nodded, while Sebastian continued to stare at the dressed up boy; keeping one-ear intently focused on what Madame Red was saying…

"My color pallet is the inspiration for many…" She began.

"A p-peacock! Right?" The older gentlemen blurted out, clutching to the cage with desperate, hungry eyes.

Claude huffed an annoyed breath, "Imbecile. Why would you waste your answer before Madame is even finished reciting the riddle?"

The older man began to blubber and beg for another chance, all the while, being ignored by the Robin he was fawning over… before he was pulled away by two of the Moulin Rouge's largest henchmen.

"May I continue?" Madame Red sighed, rolling her eyes and musing over the impatience of men (in general). "My color pallet is the inspiration of many. I am vast… I am the playing field for some of the most powerful elements… what am I?" She said sweetly.

The golden haired Viscount Druitt stepped forward, clutching his hands together as he gazed adoringly at the decorated boy. "Ah… my beautiful Robin! Your name could be the ugliest name in existence – and I would **still** adore you! Oh, my sweet, caged songbird! Please! Be mine!"

"…So what's your answer?" Madame sighed, clearly annoyed at how this game was being delayed by foolish outbursts.

"Answer?" The Viscount mumbled, clearly uninterested and clueless.

Madame Red pursed her lips, and turned to Claude. "Monsieur Faustus?"

Claude took a few steps closer to the cage, keeping his intense, golden eyes on the boy. For a brief moment, Sebastian could have sworn that the little Robin looked slightly… uncomfortable? Indeed, Sebastian knew Claude Faustus to be a cold and calculating young man, much like himself. They were quite similar, though Sebastian pegged himself to be the smarter of the two.

"Océan." The dark-haired male answered.

Madame Red smiled, and looked apologetic, "I'm so sorry, Monsieur Faustus… but that is incorrect."

Claude looked rather irritated to hear he was wrong, but before he could utter any protest, Sebastian slowly walked forward, until he was standing directly in front of the elaborate cage.

"Ah… Monsieur Michaelis," Madame cooed, fanning herself with a small hand-fan, "Care to venture _your_ guess now?"

Sebastian didn't look over at the seductive temptress as she baited him. Instead, his ruby colored eyes stayed completely focused on the boy in the cage – who still wasn't giving anyone outside it the time of day. "My color pallet is the inspiration of many." Sebastian began to recite. "I am vast… I am the playing field for some of the most powerful elements…" He finished; his voice taking on a huskier, deeper tone, before he uttered his answer:

"…Ciel."

At the sound of the name, the fifteen year old snapped his head up; his eyes wide with shock as he finally stared back at Sebastian through the bars.

"Ciel." Sebastian repeated as a smirk grew on his lips. "Sky."

The room murmured with anticipation and heating gossip – especially when they noticed the shocked look on Madame Red's face. "O-Oui…" She answered softly. Her eyes shifted back toward Ciel, before she slowly made her way toward the cage, and produced a key. Unlocking it, Madame opened the door…

But instead of Ciel getting out – Sebastian stepped in, and shut the door behind him. "Raise it." He ordered.

"…Pardon?" Madame gaped in confusion.

"I said: raise it." He repeated in a more aggravated tone. "I wish to have a moment alone with him. And as his newly appointed 'primary' customer… I believe I'm entitled."

Madame Red looked a little torn, but nodded as Sebastian handed her a substantial wad of bills. Taking it in hand, she looked over to the lift-and-pulley operators, and nodded. The two men nodded back, and began to smoothly haul the rope – successfully hoisting the large cage back into the air, above the main showroom floor, where prostitutes and male patrons were beginning to gather again.

Sebastian could hear Madame Red below, announcing another can-can; the crowd hummed and screamed in excitement, and soon enough, the band was playing – and people were engaged in their fantasy world once more.

"Ciel." Sebastian purred. Lifting his hand, he trailed a finger down the boy's exposed, creamy thigh – causing him to shudder, and his cheeks to flush. "Ciel… Ciel, Ciel…" He repeated, pulling the beautiful teen into his arms. Hoisting him up, Sebastian reversed their positions so he was seated where Ciel was previously, and Ciel was in his lap.

He squirmed anxiously, and pushed his small hands against Sebastian's broad chest. "S-Stop repeating my name, you fool…" The boy hissed; though the blush on his cheeks portrayed his true innocence.

"But it must be nice to finally hear someone utter your name… after such a long time." Sebastian rationalized, nuzzling his nose against the smooth skin of the teen's neck. "You smell nice. Like a spring rainfall… quite pure." He hummed. "Is it true you're untouched?"

While he expected an answer, Sebastian was rather shocked to feel Ciel's small hand suddenly grasp his chin, and force him to look into his eyes as he straddled his lap. "Don't speak down to me like I'm some petulant, idiotic child." Ciel reprimanded him sternly. "I've grown up in this environment."

"Mmm." Sebastian smirked. "Your parents must be very liberated individuals."

Ciel's large pupils seemed to dilate a bit; the only indication that the comment about his parents effected him in any way, shape or form. "My parents are dead."

"All the better." He replied, sliding his arms around Ciel's slender, corseted waist. "We wouldn't want them to see what a tempting lure their young son has become, would we?"

If the comment hurt him, Ciel didn't show it. Instead, the teen slowly drifted his gaze over Sebastian's features; admiring how attractive the young man was, despite the fourteen-year difference in their age. "You understand that while you will be my primary customer… you will _not_ be my only." Ciel whispered against Sebastian's lips - their skin brushing, but not fully connecting in any sort of kiss.

For a moment, Sebastian's brain ceased to velvety smooth voice, that doe-like blue eye, and the teen's overall indifferent disposition was affecting him. More than he cared to admit. Ciel was dangerous. Now, more than before, Sebastian could see why so many desired this Rouge Robin. The boy was a rare case… he could tell…

"I'm aware of that." Sebastian answered. "And I am alright with that arrangement… if you are." Truth be told, this could actually help his situation; his rut. Sebastian knew he probably wouldn't get attached, and working in this place, Ciel would make more money by branching out and not limiting himself to one customer.

Leaning forward, Ciel gave a small, light kiss to the far-most corner of Sebastian's lips. "Don't fall in love with me." The boy whispered, sliding his skinny, small fingers gently into Sebastian's silky black hair.

"I won't." The young man answered, hotly claiming his new prize's lips.

Only a fool would fall in love with such an alluring creature.

_Only a fool._

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><p><strong>AN:**

:: Yes, this is just Bardory (working in Sebastian's household/kitchen), but I wanted to give him a Frenchy-first-name to go with the setting

:: Timeframe is anywhere between the late 1880s and 1890s when the Moulin Rouge was in full swing (basically, same time/era the film was set)

:: Please review; let me know if you enjoyed it, or if it's a story people want/worth continuing? Like I said, this chapter is just a teaser and kind of a test.

:: Ciel's outfit can be seen here; dramatisecho(dot)deviantart(dot)com(slash)gallery(slash)#(slash)d37cvxh


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